Artistic Expressions

Some words of advice for writers...or artists.

My friend Darrell Laurant is a veteran journalist and freelance writer who lives in Lynchburg, VA. For the last five years, he has been nurturing an international freelance writers' group called The Writers' Bridge. For the last thirty-six years, he has been married to Gail, an artist, whose influence has broadened his interest in all things creative.

Darrell recently sent this essay to the members of The Writer's Bridge, but it seems to me that it has a great deal to offer to artists as well.  He has graciously allowed me to share his words of wisdom here.  Thanks, Darrell!

1. KNOW YOURSELF. What kind of writer are you? Do you have the soul of a poet or the steel-trap  mind of a techie? What interests you? What gets you emotional? What do you know a lot about? What experiences have you had that might benefit others? Are you a slow or fast writer? Experienced or new? Once you realize these things about yourself, you'll know in which direction you should proceed in your writing career.

2. BE YOURSELF. To be creative is to subject yourself to the tyranny of subjectivity. You loved a movie, the person you went with hated it. You want to crank up a song on the car radio, another passenger wants to turn it off. You will never please everyone, so you might as well find your style and your point of view and stick with it. If what you produce doesn't seem to fit a "niche," so be it -- if it's good enough, the niche will magically appear.

3. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. Perhaps no other group of people is as hung up on self-flagellation as writers. Nobody's buying anything now. Nobody's paying anything. You can't get an agent. You can't make a living. There are too many of us. And on and on. I happen to believe that no one is given a dream and a passion for something without the corresponding capacity to succeed. If you feel driven to write, you'll outlast most of the writing multitude by sheer stubborness.

4. ACCEPT YOURSELF. No one starts out as a good writer, any more than you would start out as a good driver, good cook or good tennis player. Don't kid yourself. Accept criticism, and build on it. If you get a rejection, try to figure out why that happened and move on. There will be good days and bad days, but never stop trying to improve. It's a process.

5. ACCEPT REALITY. This may seem to be in direct conflict with No. 3, and in some ways that reflects the complexity of our world. When you are selling your work, you will always be faced with compromises. Remember, though, that you hold the power, and it is always your decision whether to make that compromise or not. If it's worth it to you, financially or career-wise, that's no disgrace. Moreover, accept that nothing you write is ever going to be perfect. At some point, you have to let it fly to the larger world, flawed or not. There's always another day, something else to create.

6. PUSH YOURSELF. If you're a freelancer, no one else is going to do that for you. Set goals. Make lists. Try to create a structure that you can operate within, as opposed to drifting in a vacuum. To be a freelancer is to adopt a dual personality -- you are your own boss, and also your own employee. Therefore, require of yourself what you would require of someone who was working for you.

Establishing Quality Gallery Relationships

At some point in their careers, many artists turn to galleries to market and sell their work.  Some tell horror stories of pieces damaged or lost, galleries closing the doors without returning work or money, and one-sided contracts that favor the gallery and penalize the artist.  For most artists, however, gallery representation is a necessary and rewarding way to develop a reputation and sell work.

It’s exciting and flattering when a gallery expresses an interest in representing you and, by doing a little homework and using your common sense, you can develop fruitful, long-term business relationships with people who are interested in seeing you succeed.

Research. This may seem obvious, but many artists send portfolios to galleries they pick randomly without checking them out first.  If you want to approach a gallery, or if a gallery makes an overture, first visit incognito.  Look at the type of work and artists they represent.  If they deal only in abstract photography and your work is realistic bronze sculpture, it’s not a fit, no matter what the gallery’s reputation might be.  Watch how the staff interact with customers.  Do they approach everyone who walks in the door as a potential customer, or are they dismissive of people who don’t fit their preconceived notion of what an art buyer looks like?  Are they passionate about the work?  Do they understand the pieces they represent and can they answer questions?  Do they have good sales skills?  Can you picture them selling your work?

Contact some of the artists represented by the gallery.  Get details about their experience – the amount of work sold, how quickly the gallery pays, how openings and shows are handled – anything that will give you an idea about how the gallery functions.

Make contact.  Do this either in person or on the phone.  First make sure that you’re speaking with the decision maker and then explain that you’re familiar with the gallery because you’ve visited.  Talk about what you like about the gallery and why you think you and your work would make a good addition.  Begin to build a relationship.  Ask if you can send a portfolio and, if the answer is yes, ask what format they prefer for images.  Some galleries don’t want the hassle of viewing slides; others don’t want digital images.  When you send material, include a return envelope with sufficient postage to get your portfolio back should the gallery decide you’re not a fit.  Whatever the response, send a thank-you note.

Read the contract.  If the gallery makes an offer of representation, ask for the contract.  Make sure you understand the finer points, and if something is unclear, ask for an explanation.  If you don’t like any provisions, negotiate.  If you don’t ask for what you want, don’t complain about not having it later.  If you can’t accept certain clauses in the contract and the gallery won’t negotiate, then it’s okay to walk away.  Don’t begin your relationship feeling like the gallery has all of the power and you have none. The gallery works for you, not vice versa.

Some galleries don’t offer written agreements.  If that’s the case, write your own and have the owner or manager sign it.  A contract won’t protect you from every misunderstanding, but it can be a useful tool when disputes arise.

Keep records.  Know which pieces are in the gallery, the date you delivered them, and the price.  To avoid confusion, vary your titles.  If your pieces have similar names, like Bird 1, Bird 2, and Bird 3, it’s easy for the gallery, not to mention your collectors, to mix them up.  Use creative titles that reflect the nature or statement of each piece.  If you work in editions, know which number of each edition is in the gallery’s possession.  Like any other manufacturing business, keeping track of your inventory is critical to your organization and to your ultimate success.

Communicate.  Most relationships require two-way communication to thrive.  Working with a gallery is no different.  This doesn’t mean calling every day to see how much of your work has sold.  You should, however, check in periodically to let them know about new work, awards, large commissions, and other information of interest that might help them sell your work.  The gallery should also be in contact with you on a regular basis to let you know what’s happening in their world.  If months go by and you haven’t had a phone call or, more importantly, a check, don’t hesitate to call or drop in.  The gallery is working for you – you’re paying them a hefty percentage to sell your work, not to warehouse it.

Exhibit professionalism and expect it from your galleries.  This is a simple one.  Deal with honesty and integrity, keep your promises, and deliver good work.  Your galleries should do the same.  If, even after all of your background checking, you find yourself in a relationship that isn’t working, walk away and find another gallery that fits your personality and your style.

We’d like to hear about your gallery experiences.  Share your ideas for creating great gallery relationships.

The R Word -- How Do You Handle Rejection?

Sometimes the universe tests us with rejection; life asks us if we are confident enough in ourselves and our creations to keep going in the face of obstacles. …While we must be open to feedback, we must also hold a faith that supersedes the opinions of those who do not agree with us. If you believe in something enough, you will not be put off by obstacles or setbacks. - Alan Cohen

The invitation arrives in the mail and your heart skips a beat.  You’ve been asked to submit a piece for jury consideration for the biggest museum show in your area.  You’ve just finished a work that you know is perfect.  It’s a shoe-in.  You fill out the application, enclose the slides and send them off, confident you’ll be accepted.  You envision your piece in glossy splendor on the pages of the show catalog; you imagine yourself stepping forward to receive the Best in Show award.  Fame and glory follow.  Your career is made.

Several weeks later the letter comes in the mail.  “Dear Artist,” it begins.  “We regret to inform you…”  You’re crushed.  You berate yourself.  I’m so stupid, How did I think I could possibly get in a show like that? Then you get angry. The jurors are idiots.  They obviously don’t understand good work.  You vow to get even.  I’ll show them.  I’ll never create another piece of sculpture again.  And I’ll never set foot in that museum again either.  You rationalize.  I’m sure they had to play the political  game and accept work from people that give them money or have better contacts. They didn’t have room for me.

Once the initial emotions have finished racing through your heart and head, what’s your next step?  Do you dash off an angry letter to the director of the museum, thus ensuring you’ll never be invited to show there?  Do you moan and complain to everyone you know, convincing your family, friends and colleagues that you’re a spoiled diva? Do you give up, believing your work will never be good enough?  If you stay stuck in those unproductive emotions, you’ll never achieve the level of success  you desire, a level many of your less talented colleagues may surpass.

Professional artists know rejection is part of the game -- it happens to everybody. The difference between satisfying success and bitter failure is how you handle it.  Rejection always hurts, but accepting the pain and moving on is critical to building your career.  How do you do that?

1. Turn loose of your work.  As with a child that you bring into the world and raise, at some point you have to let go.  Your children move into other relationships in life, and so must your art.  You can still love the pieces you create, but allow others to love them, or not, as well. 

2. Realize your work is not You. Your work may be the deepest expression of your soul, but it’s not your soul. Rejection has little to do with you, and everything to do with the viewer. Jurors and others who examine your work do so through their own lenses of life experience.  Sometimes they relate, sometimes they don’t.  It doesn’t mean they don’t like, admire, respect, or even know You. 

3. Rejection is not necessarily criticism.  Galleries, jurors, collectors, and others who make choices about work make those decisions based on criteria about which you may not know.  They may not accept your work not because it’s poor quality, but because they have enough bronze figures or abstract stone or wood miniatures. Maybe it’s simply not a fit for the gallery or show.  Much of the time it has nothing to do with your talent, your statement, or your creative expression.

4. With criticism, accept what makes sense to you and ignore the rest.  Everybody has an opinion, and most people don’t hesitate to express theirs.  Consider the source of the criticism.  If an art professional tells you your piece lacks proportion and gives you some ideas about fixing it, pay closer attention than you would to a collector who lives in a house full of ceramic frogs who tells you your abstract female figure doesn’t have any personality.  It’s important to listen with an open mind and then take an objective look at your work. If you can see how it would improve by incorporating someone’s suggestions, do it.  If not, let the comments go.

5. As my best friend says, honor the process.  Continue to improve your skills, stay true to your vision, create your art, and send it out into the world. Let go of your attachment to the results.  Sometimes you’ll feel the sting of rejection; other times you’ll feel the joy of success.  It’s all part of the journey.  As in life, the journey is just as important as the destination.

6. When all else fails, comfort yourself with the thought that every "no" leads one step closer to "yes."  You’ll learn to relish the rejection because you know acceptance is imminent.  A writing friend of mine plays something he calls the Rejection Game.  His aim is to collect one hundred rejection slips all while writing the best he can.  He’s never reached a hundred because he gets so many acceptances along with the rejections that he doesn’t have time to keep playing the game.

Tell us how you handle rejection.  Do you do a ceremonial burning of your rejection letters?  Paper your studio walls with them?  Use them as gift-wrapping?  Share your creative ideas.

Originally published in Creative Wisdom, November 2006.